My maiden name is Rosenberg and my family, on both sides, are a bunch of radical ass Russian Jews. All of them, all the way back to the beginning of time. So then I married this Catholic guy....oh, I'm sorry, that would be an entirely different post. This post is about my father's family.
Anyway, and I say this with pride, I am just about one generation away from being Euro-trash, both on my mother and father's side. Before you wonder if I am related to THE Rosenbergs (you know, Ethel and Joseph? those treasonous communists?), let me just tell you straight off that Rosenberg is Jewish for Smith. So, if I am, I don't know it.
Sidney Rosenberg, my paternal grandfather, was born in New York City in 1902. His parents, Rachel and Max Rosenberg, had immigrated to the United States from Russia in 1875. They, like so many of my relatives, came by boat to Ellis Island. From there, his family went to Texas. They left Russia because of political reasons.
Eventually, Sidney moved to Chicago, and met the beautiful Annie Schiff, whom he immediately fell in love with and married. Annie Rosenberg is my paternal grandmother. She was a teacher and Sidney was a lawyer.
Annie's grandfathers name was Schuel Slutsky. He immigrated from Latvia, which was at the time an independent part of Russia. They were called "herring eaters" because the country was a peninsula surrounded by water on three sides.
Schuel Slutsky had immigrated at the age of ten because he was a 'known' radical and he was "in trouble with the authorities" and they were looking for him. By the time he was twelve, he lived in Manhattan and was a rag pedaler.
When my great-great grandfather Slutsky came through Ellis Island, they changed his name to Schiff. When he arrived, he was trying to tell the immigration officials, in broken english, that "he came on the ship". They thought he was saying "my name is Schiff". Apparently, this happened quite often in those days. Good ridence "Slutsky" and hello "Schiff".
My grandma Annie's father was named Isaac Schiff and her mother was named Rose. Rose was an amazing woman, one so after my own heart that I wish I'd known her. Isaac died and left Rose a widow with twelve children. Rose never remarried and scrubbed floors to support my grandma Annie and her eleven brothers and sisters. All twelve attended college.
This is my favorite story about Rose Schiff. Keep in mind that she had left Russia only years before and could barely speak English.
During the Great Depression, the bank was going to foreclose on their house. Rose marched all twelve children, with their little bags packed, down to the bank. She told the bank manager that if he did foreclose, she would have no choice but to leave all twelve children with him because they would be homeless.
She pretended to walk away, while twleve frantic children, who really believed her, cried 'mama mama!..' please, mama mama, don't leave us mama!. The manager relented, and they somehow managed to keep the house. Ain't that salty? I want to be just like Rose.
Anyway, and I say this with pride, I am just about one generation away from being Euro-trash, both on my mother and father's side. Before you wonder if I am related to THE Rosenbergs (you know, Ethel and Joseph? those treasonous communists?), let me just tell you straight off that Rosenberg is Jewish for Smith. So, if I am, I don't know it.
Sidney Rosenberg, my paternal grandfather, was born in New York City in 1902. His parents, Rachel and Max Rosenberg, had immigrated to the United States from Russia in 1875. They, like so many of my relatives, came by boat to Ellis Island. From there, his family went to Texas. They left Russia because of political reasons.
Eventually, Sidney moved to Chicago, and met the beautiful Annie Schiff, whom he immediately fell in love with and married. Annie Rosenberg is my paternal grandmother. She was a teacher and Sidney was a lawyer.
Annie's grandfathers name was Schuel Slutsky. He immigrated from Latvia, which was at the time an independent part of Russia. They were called "herring eaters" because the country was a peninsula surrounded by water on three sides.
Schuel Slutsky had immigrated at the age of ten because he was a 'known' radical and he was "in trouble with the authorities" and they were looking for him. By the time he was twelve, he lived in Manhattan and was a rag pedaler.
When my great-great grandfather Slutsky came through Ellis Island, they changed his name to Schiff. When he arrived, he was trying to tell the immigration officials, in broken english, that "he came on the ship". They thought he was saying "my name is Schiff". Apparently, this happened quite often in those days. Good ridence "Slutsky" and hello "Schiff".
My grandma Annie's father was named Isaac Schiff and her mother was named Rose. Rose was an amazing woman, one so after my own heart that I wish I'd known her. Isaac died and left Rose a widow with twelve children. Rose never remarried and scrubbed floors to support my grandma Annie and her eleven brothers and sisters. All twelve attended college.
This is my favorite story about Rose Schiff. Keep in mind that she had left Russia only years before and could barely speak English.
During the Great Depression, the bank was going to foreclose on their house. Rose marched all twelve children, with their little bags packed, down to the bank. She told the bank manager that if he did foreclose, she would have no choice but to leave all twelve children with him because they would be homeless.
She pretended to walk away, while twleve frantic children, who really believed her, cried 'mama mama!..' please, mama mama, don't leave us mama!. The manager relented, and they somehow managed to keep the house. Ain't that salty? I want to be just like Rose.
